Under the Viceroy's Rule
The sting of the wound was a reminder that there were still warriors left who could entertain him, who could fuel his desire for a fight that wasn't a foregone conclusion.
Zenos felt his pulse quicken, his enthusiasm building with every passing moment. The taste of real combat—the kind where victory wasn't assured—was intoxicating.
For once, he wasn't just going through the motions; he was fully immersed in the thrill of battle, savoring every second of this rare encounter.
"What have you done to me, little Mavislin~" whispered Zenos as he went through the gates of his false kingdom, wearing a small smile that he'd never thought he could ever muster up.
Dawn soon came, bathing the lands with a sea of golden light to mark the start of a new day. Matt and Mavislin scaled the towering walls of Valokia with practiced ease, slipping into the shadows and avoiding the keen eyes of the guards.
They moved with quiet precision, the moonlight barely catching on their figures as they navigated the city's defenses. Somehow, they had made it inside without so much as a scratch or the whistle of an arrow in their direction.
Once within, they paused to take in their surroundings. The town itself was oddly pristine, with cobblestone streets winding in perfect order. But what stood out most were the soldiers—Viceroy Zenos' men—methodically patrolling every corner.
They marched in disciplined formations, their armor gleaming under the dim streetlights, their expressions devoid of any emotion. Yet something felt... wrong.
It wasn't the sight of armed soldiers that unnerved them; they were accustomed to such displays of power. No, it was the eerie atmosphere hanging over the town. There was no chaos, no tension, no sign of resistance from the townsfolk.
The streets were too quiet, too orderly. Everything seemed to run with an unnatural precision as if the entire town were nothing more than a well-oiled machine.
Matt narrowed his eyes, scanning the empty alleyways and silent homes.
"This place… it doesn't feel right," he muttered.
Mavislin nodded, her gaze lingering on the lifeless windows.
"It's too peaceful," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The kind of peace that only comes from fear—the kind that comes from absolute control. And it was sickening to watch but the duo still held their heads high, pretending to blend into the folks and atmosphere around them. As if everything was normal…
Mattheos and Mavislin strolled leisurely through the village, their footsteps soft against the cobblestone streets.
The scenery around them was reminiscent of ancient times, with narrow pathways lined with wooden houses featuring sliding doors and sloping tiled roofs. Lanterns swayed gently above their heads, casting a warm amber glow as the sun shone brightly above their heads.
The air was filled with the faint scent of incense mixed with the fresh aroma of tea leaves and blossoming cherry trees.
As they wandered deeper into the village, they could see the grand silhouette of the palace in the distance, in Mavislin was convinced that whoever thought of making such a huge thing should have their priorities rechecked.